


the jacket you never returned

by daisuga



Series: the things that stayed and did not stay [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, a vent fic to be honest, also i need to write something that is not oofuri and haikyuu, whaeyhasha s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisuga/pseuds/daisuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He leaned over, kissed Bokuto on the cheek, and smiled bitterly, eyes watery.</p><p>He will never remember. Not now, not ever. </p><p>What they were will now forever be forgotten.</p><p> </p><p>"You used to call me Keiji, Koutarou."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. bless

 

 

"Huh? Keiji? Who's that?"

 

He's prepared for this, he swear. He already readied himself the moment they told him that _Bokuto might forget some things, but please don't worry, we're sure he'll remember it_. He knows and he braced himself, expected this, expected the worst, but the sudden pain and heaviness those words threw to him still caught him off-guard, and he can already feel his hands shaking, and there's a dull throb in his chest. He want out. This is too much, too much already, and it's only four words uttered by him, yet he's already breaking.

He feels Konoha's hand on his shoulders, and briefly catches Kuroo saying, "He's your boyfriend."

Bokuto laughs, but he looks so confused, afraid.

"Dude, I'm not gay."

He blinks, and tries not to cry.

 

 

He never broke my heart. He only turned it into a compass that always points me back to him.

 **Clementine von Radics,**   _In Defense of Loving Him_

 

 

 

It's been a week and he's still Akaashi to him. Not Keiji, no--just his setter, his "best buddy" that he's always with. All the "he was your lover" and "you really loved Akaashi" only resulted into awkward laughs and "really, that's a funny joke". It stopped after the third day, after everyone noticed Akaashi's uncomfortable and pained face.

That, too. He can't control his emotions anymore, now.

He thought things would be better after he convinced Kuroo to at least let Bokuto use his apartment first--their place is still clattered with memories and touches and everything that screams "them". The notes Bokuto puts on the fridge. The chore rotation they placed on one of the kitchen drawers. The bulletin board that they so ridiculously used to pin up pictures, schedules and notes--plans, _see you at the restaurant, I love you_. Calendar that littered with "Monthsary" marks and birthday marks.

Now, standing in the middle of them all, they all seem so big.

He imagines, for a second, Bokuto running around the apartment. Today is a Saturday. It's a free day for them, supposedly, and a movie night. He imagines both of them hunched over the stack of movies they have, cases all over the floor, marked with notes. Haven't watched yet. Recommended by Kuroo. The movie you wanted to see last week. Reminded me of you.

Then, he feels it, suddenly: it came up, then back down, crushing him. His eyes started to water, hand forming a clenched fist over his heart--he crouched down, gasping, looking on the ground, hot wet tears falling down. He can't even sob, can't even say anything, just ragged breath and whining, and oh god, it feels so good to let it all out, but it also feels heavy, feels like he had the whole ocean in him, like he swallowed one accidentally. His chest starts to hurt and his throat feels like it's being scratched up, and he bites his lip, hard, because everything just hurts, everything is just awful and it's all sucking him in, the past tenses, the used-to-be, the "Who's Keiji?", the pain and heaviness and--

He wants him back. He wants him back.

He does not want to be forgotten.

 

* * *

 

When Bokuto arrives at their apartment, it's squeaky clean.

Akaashi already chucked the bulletin board in the deepest part of his wardrobe--he already separated his things with Bokuto's, too. He arranged the notes and all the other things with the words "I love you", keeping it in a box, putting it in his drawer. He replaced the calendar. He hid the couple shirts, as well. 

Everything was rid of, and he felt empty.

But Bokuto adores the apartment and teases him about how he's so organized most of the time. He rolls his eyes and smiles at him, slightly, before going over the chore rotation, again. He gives out the basic rundown of the apartment; where his room his, where the bathroom is, where to take out the trash and the likes. _It feels so familiar_ , Bokuto says.  _I feel like I've been here for years._

 _You have,_ is what Akaashi wants to scream,  _We have._

But he holds himself down and smiled through it. This is not the Bokuto he's used to--not the one that he set for back then at high school, not the one he followed throughout college, not the one who asked him to go out with him after losing to Super Smash Bros, stealing his first kiss with cheesy fighting background music. This is not  _his_ Bokuto. This Bokuto does not remember him--This Bokuto is straight, the Bokuto before meeting Akaashi, the one who dated girls even before Akaashi felt how it is to be attracted to someone--

This Bokuto does not love him. ( _Yet,_ a voice in his head, that sounded like Kuroo, chided.)

He drinks his coffee and turns the television on, Bokuto's overexcited voice reaching his place from the bedroom to the living room. 

He smiles bitterly, in spite of himself.

 

* * *

 

 

"What," was Kuroo's only reaction to Bokuto's declaration.

Bokuto pouted; he was expecting something better, something like _congratulations, man, I knew you could do it!_ , but all he got was Kuroo staring at him, looking like he lost his mind. Why? What's so bad about getting a girlfriend? He's in college, already, and he's graduating in two years. What's so bad about that?

"I said I got a girl--"

"I heard it the first time!" He was honestly flabbergasted--Kuroo looked so stressed and a bit offended. Why? "Why do you? I mean, what about Akaashi?"

"What do you mean what about him? He's got nothing to do with this," he huffed. "or are you still going on with that ridiculous joke of yours?"

"Wha--You little--" Kuroo looked so pissed, now, and Bokuto's feeling a little irritated, too. He's not gay, dammit. He have a girlfriend now, too. Why is Kuroo is cracking that old "He was your boyfriend" joke? Everyone seemed to be intent on pulling off that one. "Ah, fuck it, do what you want."

"Why are you so mad?"

"Nothing, just..." It was now Kuroo who huffed, looking away. "Forget about it. Congratulations, though."

"Thanks, dude."

 

* * *

 

 

It's now Kuroo who accompanies Akaashi in his violin practices.

"What's it today?" Kuroo asks, settling on a chair nearby, while Akaashi gets on position. Sleeves rolled and violin ready, Akaashi answered, " _On Wings of Song_ , Mendelssohn."

Kuroo actually have no idea what that piece is, but hummed nonetheless. A nice, almost easy-going melody started to fill the air, and Kuroo stared at Akaashi's form. He was flawless, like a statue carved out by Bernini himself, and him playing the violin always makes him feel better. He doesn't feel anything special for the lad, per se, but there's something in him that makes you want to open up and just talk about all of your problems until you're okay.

When he blurts out, "Bokuto has a girlfriend," something resembling nails dragging down a chalkboard filled the whole room, and Akaashi stopped, looking at him. Kuroo nervously looked back, but he can't see Akaashi's expression--the setting sun is flooding the room, and Akaashi is too far. Pastel colors fills them in, and Akaashi just stands there.

Then, he clenched his violin and bowstring. Gets into the position.

This time, the notes makes him feel heavy. And he doesn't need to ask what he's playing anymore. He just turns to look at the window, letting Akaashi play.

After all, he's been playing this piece ever since Bokuto forgot.

 _Spiegel im Spiegel_.

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm not gay," is what Bokuto said to him when he got home, violin on hand. 

Akaashi looks at him, surprise on face, until he sees the paper Bokuto is thrusting on him. He takes it, confused, and felt his stomach churn when he read what's in it.

Oh god.

It's one of his notes.

_I love you, Bokuto-san, stay safe on the way to school today._

It's one of the earliest notes he gave; they're not even on the first name basis yet, but Bokuto was so ridiculously happy when he gave it, taping it on the coffee he made and pancakes he whipped up before going to his morning class. He can still remember it as if it was yesterday, and his heart jumps up on his throat. He feels sick. How did he find this?

"How did you find this?"

"That's not important," is what Bokuto says. "what is the _meaning of that_?"

And Bokuto looks so confused, lost, helpless, that Akaashi can't even tell the truth. He can't imagine what the other's reaction would be; but he had seen enough of his reactions to the previous attempts, and he's sure that saying the truth now would only make him either mad or disgusted.

He can't afford that. He can't afford to lose him  _more_.

"It was a running joke between us," He says, putting the note in his pocket, before moving through Bokuto and inside the house. His hands are shaking, again, and he just wants to lie down on his bed. He wants to sleep forever. He wants to forget everything about this. "don't worry, Bokuto-san."

Bokuto blinked, then lightened up. "Ah, I see!"

"Yeah," was all that he can manage to say back, walking briskly to the hallways, hands covering his eyes. The tears hurt his eyes, a lot, and they're warm against his cheeks, and he just keeps on remembering what they used to be, how it used to be, because now this place is so cold and he's losing him.

He already lost him.

He leans against his door, looking up and tightening his grip around his violin.

"Yeah."

 

* * *

 

 

Bokuto never remembered. 

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and before they knew it, Bokuto already graduated.

Akaashi was playing _Rondo Capriccioso_  when Kuroo suddenly said, "He's going to propose to her soon."

This time, he didn't play Clair de Lune.

But by the eight minute, he was already sobbing, knees buckling under him. Kuroo ran forward, reflex still smooth after all these years.

They went home early, Akaashi shaking and Kuroo with a tear-stained shirt.

 

* * *

 

 

She said yes. Bokuto moved out of their apartment.

The day he was to leave, he approached Akaashi.

"Akaashi, you're my best friend, you know, yeah? Can you...Can you be my best man?" 

He looked so ridiculously nervous, and for a second, Akaashi felt like this is Bokuto proposing to him.

But it's not. This is Bokuto asking him to stand by him as he gets married. Trusting him to catch him if he ever falls out of the loop. Asking him to watch him take another person as the love of his love. Asking him to watch him love someone else. Asking him to give _him_ away--

"Sure."

"That's great! Thanks, Akaa--Akaashi? Hey, Akaashi, why are you crying?" 

Akaashi forced a smile, the biggest smile he can muster when the person he loves loves someone else, when he knows he's forgotten, now, forever; When he knows that all he used to have is now just pieces of papers and worn-out pictures in his cabinet and drawer. 

Because he can't be selfish. Not when he loves him this much.

So he does what he does best, with a tear-stained smile and a sob he tried his best to muffle.

 

"I'm just so happy for you, Bokuto-san."

 

 

 

 

(Unbeknownst to him, Bokuto felt something hurt. In his chest. He felt the need to touch Akaashi. He brushed it off.

Now's not the time to be silly.)

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

  Here is the truth: It is hard to be in love  with someone who is in love with someone else.  I don’t know how to turn that into poetry.

 **Clementine von Radics,** _Untitled_

 

 

The wedding was beautiful. Akaashi managed to convince everyone that he's okay, suit straightened out, always at Bokuto's side.

Megumi, Bokuto's bride, was nice.

Which was bad, because Akaashi can't hate her. She's nice and she laughed at their jokes, holding Bokuto close, ring on her finger.

She was nice. Akaashi spent ten minutes in the bathroom.

 

 

 

 

"The best man has a gift for the newlyweds!" The host of the reception was really energetic, presenting Akaashi, who was standing in the middle of the platform, holding his violin. "Please give him a round of applause!"

The audience clapped, most of them excited--Kuroo raised a brow, but Akaashi just looked pointedly at him before turning to the married couple.

He swallowed. They look so perfect, like they're made for each other, and they're just staring at him, smiling, and he felt like he's going to cry, again. His hands felt clammy, chest thundering, heart beating too fast--he's approaching critical mass, but he forced himself to calm down.

He already lost him.

"I will perform a piece for Megumi-san and Bokuto-san," He said, talking into the mic, getting on position. "Though I suppose both of them are Bokuto-sans, now."

The audience laughed, but he felt his insides shrivel at the joke he just made.

So instead, he closed his eyes after getting into the position, then waited for the piece he picked for Megumi.

The pianist he asked to stand-in presses in the first few notes, and he started to to play on his mark. The whole place is silent, and they're all transfixed on him.

Spiegel im Spiegel.

 

 

 

 

Bokuto felt something shake in him. He felt a dull throb in his chest, gaze never being removed from Akaashi's form. 

Megumi said something, but he can't hear anything.

He can't hear anything but this piece, which is so achingly familiar, and he can't see anything but Akaashi, playing it.

He suddenly cried.

 

* * *

 

 "You always look like you're going to cry when you perform this piece," Bokuto called out, after Akaashi finished up Spiegel im Spiegel.

"...Do I?" Akaashi asked as he put away his violin. They're done for the day. "It's my favorite piece."

"Hm? Really?" Bokuto said ashe he stood up to stretch. "Why?"

Akaashi turns to him, smiling, and Bokuto suddenly forgot how to breathe. He just looked perfect standing there, sunset lights hitting him just where it should to make him prettier, and he just can't believe that Akaashi's him. All of him. His. His to love, his to be loved by, and he felt so, so lucky to have him.

 

"Because it reminds me of you, Koutarou."

 

* * *

 

 

Akaashi finished his piece. He got a standing ovation--some people in the crowd were even crying.

After bowing, he said a brief, "Congratulations, Bokuto-sans," and left the stage.

He prepared his pieces to play over dinner.

It was only when wet spots on his _Silentium_  piece appeared that he realized that he was crying.

 

He wanted to hold him.

 

* * *

 

 

"Akaashi, thank you!" Bokuto ran up to his best man, grinning. "You're the best best man and best friend that anyone could ever ask for!"

And under the moonlight, with the lanterns over them, Bokuto just looked so nice, so nostalgic that his insides stirred and his heart threatened to burst. Akaashi made a split-second decision as to what to do. He wants to touch him. Even just once. For the last time, for keeper's sake. For the relationship that should've been--

He leaned over, kissed Bokuto on the cheek, and smiled bitterly, eyes watery.

He will never remember. Not now, not ever. 

What they were will now forever be forgotten.

 

"You used to call me Keiji, Koutarou."


	2. echt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i swore it will Get Better

 

He sighs, picking up his reading for college.

He turns on the TV and switched it to the sports channel.

This time, he didn't flinch when he saw Bokuto.

 

That night when he walked out and Bokuto didn't chase him, they lost contact. It's been a year since then. He's still in college and Bokuto is taking the world by storm already. As it should be. He could still feel the cold dread settling down his stomach, that dull throb in his chest; You can never unlove a person after all.

He takes a deep breath and read a message from Konoha.

 

(But you can love another.)

 

 

I’m a poet, the people I love will always be somewhere else.

**Kait Rokowski**

 

 

It was by accident.

 

He just finished having coffee with one of his teammates when he saw them; Akaashi pointing at the window of one of the shops out side the cafe, chatting animatedly with Konoha. The sky was a comforting, pastel blue, sun not too bright, but not too dim, either. His heart skipped a beat.

It's been a year. Akaashi still looks the same.

He then felt something cold within him when Konoha laughed and swung his arms over Akaashi's shoulders--but he shook it off and moved to approach them.

"Hey!" He yelled, and they both looked at him, Akaashi wide-eyed for a second before masking it up, Konoha blinking.

"Bokuto."

"Hello," he caught up with them. There was a long stretch of silence before he blurted out, "Why are you guys together?", surprising the three of them, including himself. He backpedaled, biting out an awkward laugh before jokingly saying, "Is Konoha your boyfriend?", expecting Konoha to laugh and Akaashi to deny it, hoping, for some reason, that they're not really together--

 

But, unlike him, Konoha didn't refute it at all.

 

"Yes."

 

* * *

 

 

Akaashi scowled at him, but Konoha just chuckled.

"Why did you say that?"

"Because it's the truth," was the reply, Konoha crawling over to him, breath tickling his face. It's cold and the room's only source of light is the setting sun, and Akaashi thinks of Spiegel im Spiegel, the reason why he loves it, the reason why his heart still skip beats when a certain name is mentioned. Konoha kissed him. Akaashi felt a little guilty.

"It's the truth."

Akaashi said nothing in return and just held him, and kissed him back.

 

* * *

 

 

The night Akaashi left his wedding, Bokuto felt like a city left by a storm, in ruins and lost and just plain  _wrecked._ His body was tingling, fingertips wanting to touch, to reach out, _to hold._  His face felt warm. Bokuto has always been irrational and impulsive, he knows that, but the kind of rebellion his body was demonstrating is unbelievable. It's illogical and he's denying it, trying to hold it down, cover it up, because no means no means  _no_.

But the truth is the truth and he wanted to hold, wanted to kiss, wanted _all_ of it and _more_. His body was responding by its own, but he summoned enough willpower to shut every want down. 

He's not gay. He's married. He does not, in anyway that is more than appropriate for a friend, like Akaashi.

_It's just a joke._

 

 

 

 

"Koutarou?"

Megumi called out, that night, surprised. Bokuto blinked back at her. His chest felt heavy. His consciousness kept on making him feel like he lost something; making him feel that he lost a part of him, something that was taken out and away. He felt so heavy and so lonely, and he's confused and upset and why, why does he feel lonely, even when his wife was there? Why?

"Koutarou, why are you crying?"

 

There was no answers, that night.

 

* * *

 

 

Since he woke up, back then, three years ago, Akaashi has been calling him as "Bokuto-san".

 

It never bothered him before, but now, it bothers him to the point where he feels offended. As if he lived years before as "Koutarou" to Akaashi, as if Akaashi's voice was made to fit with his name, to say his name, call him--despite him never hearing him say it prior to that time when he got married.

 

It scared him. It scared him, because he wants to hear Akaashi say it again. He wants to have something more than a kiss. He wants  _something_ , wants  _Akaashi_ , wants to hold him, to hear him say his name. It scared him because it felt like a natural thought to him, these cravings, the want to hold, to love, to make Akaashi happy and comfotable, to be devoted. It scared him how much all of these doesn't make him want to run away, and more than that, it scared him that he can't find the will to deny these.

 

It scared him because Megumi saying his name never gave him the feelings Akaashi did when he said "Koutarou".

 

* * *

 

 

Megumi heard him whisper something in his sleep.

The next day, she met up with Kuroo.

 

 

 

 

"What's Akaashi-kun's relationship with Koutarou?"

"What do you mean? They're just close friends."

Megumi gave him a pointed look,  _you know what I mean._

Kuroo averted his eyes, sighing. It's about time, he guess; Akaashi and Bokuto's old relationship has been an elephant too big for a room for those who knew it. It's sad, he thought, that something so beautiful and protected got buried just like that, never to be spoken about again.

They were one of the few relationships that survived after their high school, and yet.

 

 

 

 

"How'd you find out?"

Megumi looked down and stirred her tea.

 

"He's been saying 'Keiji' in his sleep.""

* * *

 

 

The sun was not yet up--his room was still dark, and Konoha is still holding him. It's still chilly, though, and he saw that the moon was still shining.

His phone is ringing.

It won't cease, even. It pulled him awake, and when the arms holding him shifted, he guessed that it woke up Konoha, too. He squeezed Akaashi with a "answer it already, keiji," before pulling himself away, sitting up and stretching. Akaashi shuffled near to the drawers, snatching up his phone.

He froze.

"Go ahead," Konoha softly said, looking at the screen and bumping their shoulders together, before leaning his head on Akaashi's. His hand tightened its grip on his phone, head pounding and heart beating in his ears. He felt warm, suddenly, despite the cold breeze entering the room through the window.

"Hello?"

"Keiji," Bokuto said, and Akaashi's responding again, automatically--hand shaking, eyes stinging.

He sniffed. He heard Bokuto draw in a breath--

 

"Can you say my name again?"

 

\--and Bokuto sounded so desperate, for a second, that he wondered if he's back--if the Bokuto that loved him is back, but he remembered Spiegel im Spiegel, this time, again, and the reason why he played it at Bokuto's wedding, why he offered it to him, to Megumi, _to them_.

_That was him passing Bokuto off to her._

_That was him letting Bokuto go._

 

"I'm sorry, Bokuto-san."

 

 

 

He hang up. Swallowed nervously. His hands are still shaking, and he looked down. The sun is yet to rise for an another hour or two. The moonlight shone, and his eyes were watery, and he felt like he's such a mess, when did this happen to him? He's so, so tired. 

An arm snaked around his waist, and Konoha was kissing his shoulders,  _you are so so brave, so beautiful, it's okay, Keiji--_

 

_It's okay. I love you._

 

And he cried.

 

* * *

 

 

When Konoha answered "Yes" and confirmed that he's together with Akaashi, Bokuto felt warm. And it was not nice--it was red, hot, burning, and he felt like he's been punched, straight to his chest, anger and jealousy welling up inside him, making him want to burst and stopping his breath short.

 

He's not sure whom he's mad at, but he hated the feeling, and he hated that he's feeling it in the first place. Most of all, he hated what he was seeing. Unconsciously, his mind strayed, saying, _I should be that person beside him_. He wanted to walk over and tear them apart from each other, to keep them away, because this is wrong. They don't fit, at all, for him--he can't be happy, can't accept it, and he doesn't know why. He had a feeling that he doesn't even want to.

Except, the only thing that's wrong is what he's feeling. Akaashi's Akaashi, Konoha is his boyfriend, Megumi is Bokuto's wife. Nothing is wrong.

 

And still, he felt betrayed and hurt all the same.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Seasons passed by.

 

 

Akaashi graduated and Kuroo hosted a party; invitations got sent out, and old friends became new people, and Akaashi suddenly felt like he's 16 again, playing and setting and sneaking kisses and going out on dates every Saturday by the Aquarium. 

 

 

Bokuto's invitation came back with a "NOT ATTENDING", red ink encircling the fine print.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

That one was so beautiful I used to watch him sleep. If I had to sum up what he did to me,

  I’d say it was this: he made me sing along to all the bad songs on the radio.

Both when he loved me and when he didn’t.

 

  
**Jenny Offill,** _Dept. Of Speculation_

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I can't do that, Bokuto-san," Akaashi said, red-faced in spite of himself. By some goddamn deity, his boss turned out as Megumi, and he only went here to pick up his extra duties--the company needed more people that can look over the articles written, and he was qualified to both write and check; he accepted, of course.

 

But now Megumi is insisting that he try wearing her engagement ring.

 

At first, he was offended--was she trying to rub in the fact that she's with Bokuto?--but now, he's just embarrassed and there's some kind of pain residing in him, and he's afraid that he just might suffocate.

 

Megumi suddenly snatched his right hand and inserted the ring, and he stopped short, looking down.

 

It fitted. Perfectly. 

 

And it looked so good, and it made him feel queasy and ridiculously happy looking at it; for a second, he allowed himself to believe that he's the one married in this room, that he's not the forgotten one, the one that got erased, the one that was written off as a best friend, as a teammate, as someone that used-to-be. Because the ring fits him, and he so desperately wanted to believe that it's rightfully his.

 

(It's not.)

 

He took it off and returned it to Megumi with a silent, "Thank you, Bokuto-san," and excused himself.

 

Megumi stared at the ring.

 

"It really does."

 

* * *

Kuroo eyed the ring Megumi was wearing, then said, "He picked that ring for him, too,"

 

"What?"

 

"The ring," Kuroo pointed at it. "he couldn't stop talking about it in weeks. He kept on showing it to us, asking us how he should propose after graduating."

 

A pause.

 

"He said it matches his eyes."

 

They were silent, then, because what can you add to that? How can you reply to something like that? How do you reply when you feel like you stole something from someone, and that someone isn't even mad at you? How do you reply when you feel like you dismantled something so precious and beautiful?

 

Megumi just watched the scene outside the cafe window. Thinking.

 

* * *

So when Bokuto broke into Kuroo's apartment one day, saying, "What really was my relationship with Keiji," Kuroo was not really that surprised. 

 

"Keiji?"

 

"Tetsurou," Bokuto whined, covering his face. " _Please._ "

 

Kuroo didn't respond. Bokuto didn't move.

 

He said it again. This time, he sounded so broken, lost and confused.

 

"Please."

 

"Alright."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kuroo felt like he should be paid for this.

 

* * *

Bokuto woke up to the sound of Spiegel im Spiegel playing. Violin. His heart skipped a beat, adrenaline rushing in. He's not even thinking, but he felt that kind of warm that you feel when

you're too elated, too happy to talk. He felt a rush go through him, like he just got electrified. Like that feeling you get when you know you're the one who spiked the point that won your team. He dragged himself off of the bed, and opened the door, heart leaping up to his throat.

 

Megumi stood there beside the DVD player, paper in hand. 

 

He tried not to feel disappointed, he really did. He didn't even know what he was expecting.

 

"Hey."

 

"Hey," he replied, weakly, walking over to her.

 

She pushed the paper to his hands, smiling bitterly. He blinked, reading it.

 

Divorce papers.

 

* * *

"Why?"

 

"You were never mine, to begin with."

 

* * *

"I think this belongs to you," Megumi said, passing by Akaashi's office, dropping off a tiny box down his lap.

 

"Bokuto-san?"

 

" _Megumi-san_ ," She corrected, sternly, before smiling at him after a second, his face too amusing for her. "remember."

 

Akaashi stared at his lap, then at her. He felt something in him twisting and turning, gnawing at his insides, butterflies in his stomach--if this was a joke, he just might be pathetically offended, but he's hoping and at the same time he's guilty--

 

"It belongs to you," Megumi said, slowly, as if thinking of her words carefully. "always had. He did, too. Always had been. Yours, I mean."

 

She flashed him one more reassuring smile before walking to her office.

 

"It really does match your eyes, you know?"

 

* * *

When Konoha walked in, called by Akaashi, and saw the ring on the table, he didn't say anything, didn't do anything.

 

He just shot it a bitter look, sighed, and said "I lost, didn't I?"

 

Akaashi hugged him, anyway. "I'm sorry."

 

"It's okay."

 

"I really did love you, you know?"

 

"I know."

 

They just stood there for a moment, silent, and the air around them wasn't heavy. It felt like bidding a goodbye to a friend who frequently crashed into your apartment; they really did love each other, once upon a time, but Konoha guessed that they've always expected that this would happen--that this will end like this. He doesn't regret his choices. There wasn't anything to regret; only things to thank for, things to be happy about because they happened once.

 

And he realized that that's what should always matter.

 

"One last kiss for goodbye?"

 

Akaashi laughed, for the first time since they happened, and now they're ending. He nodded.

 

"One last kiss for goodbye."

 

* * *

For the first time since Bokuto got married, Akaashi picked up his violin and played pieces after pieces.

 

Clair de Lune. Moonlight. Four Seasons. Nocturne.

 

 

When he was in the middle of Spiegel im Spiegel, heart beating loudly, feeling light and breathing for the first time since a long time, someone knocked on his door. He put down his Stradivarius on his couch, walked over to it, and opened the door, heart in his ears and everywhere else;

 

The February snow is falling. Some snow got in his doorstep, barefeet feeling colder. It was sunset, and everything was pastel and familiar and he just cried.

 

Breathless, flustered, all Bokuto could say was "Please."

 

Akaashi smiled, watery, and this time, it's given with all his heart.

 

 

 

"Koutarou."

 

* * *

 

 

I can’t promise you very much.  
The fragile side of love is the only side there is;  
but I promise I will love you until I stop loving you.  
and when that happens, I’ll start again.

**Salma. D**


End file.
